


Strip Monopoly

by orphan_account



Series: Drinking Games [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: M/M, because that's a thing now, hints at full on nakedness, strip monopoly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to <a href="680237">Strip Poker</a>.</p><p>Strip Monopoly. A game that had previously not existed until Graham McTavish invented it in a bar in Wellington one evening. It seemed to Dean that this cast would participate in anything if it involved enough alcohol and meant getting naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strip Monopoly

**Author's Note:**

> Well. You asked for more, and who was I to deny you of naked Hobbit cast members? This is ridiculous and wasn't meant to involve anything about Dean and Aidan's sort of blossoming relationship, but it kind of did. Expect more on that in the next instalment. 
> 
> I have nothing to do with the cast of the Hobbit and I completely made all of this up.

When Dean had signed up to join the cast of The Hobbit, he hadn’t really known what to expect. However, he was pretty sure that the amount of alcohol abuse, shameless flirting, and nakedness he’d end up experiencing had not even begun to cross his mind. Maybe it was a Tolkien thing; when news got out about the Company’s strip poker tournament, Peter Jackson had simply rolled his eyes in a way that said ‘I’ve heard that one before’. So that might have been what spurred them into tonight’s contest.

Strip Monopoly. A game that had previously not existed until Graham McTavish invented it in a bar in Wellington one evening.

“No, no, hear me out!” he insisted as the others snorted with laughter into their various alcoholic drinks. “No, listen, it’s perfectly simple. We replace money with clothes - if you want to buy something, you’ve got to put your clothes in the bank. If someone owes you money, they’ve got to strip off for you!”

The whole premise sounded utterly confusing to Dean, who wasn’t the biggest fan of Monopoly anyway. But the others, who were all slightly three sheets to the wind by this point, seemed to think it was the best idea in the world and they had to play it _now_. So they trundled back to the studio and took residence in their usual lounge room. God knows how they’d found a Monopoly board, but all of a sudden it appeared and Dean wasn’t going to question it.

They had to divide into teams, as there were such a large number of them; four groups of two, and two groups of three. Adam practically leapt on Graham when he suggested everyone pair up, Jed and James decided to join forces and were now sat in the corner (looking very intimidating), and Richard and Martin shifted closer to one another and stared down anyone who suggested splitting them up. On the opposite end of the spectrum, no-one even bothered assuming that Dean was going to team with anyone other than Aidan - and of course, they’d be correct. The two were sprawled in their usual place on the sofa; they both sat with their legs curled underneath them, feet pressed against the armrests, as they leant into each other’s shoulders. That left William, Stephen and Mark on one team, and Peter, John and Ken on another (although Mark and John decided not to participate in the actual stripping, partly to make things equal, mostly because they weren’t nearly drunk enough to be naked). Sir Ian was, naturally, the banker, and he sat at the far end of the room with the Monopoly box clutched tight in his hands.

“Does the Banker have to lose his clothes too?” he asked with a mixture of innocence and coquettishness that only Ian could perfect. James let out a loud laugh.

“Come off it, McKellan, we all know what you’re trying to do. Banker keeps his clothes _on_ ,” he said, inclining his bottle towards the esteemed actor with a firm nod. He took a sip from it then sat back in his chair. “Alright, who’s being what?”

Before Dean even had a chance to think, Aidan lunged forward and grabbed the little metal dog from the table.

“Aw, look!” he said with a laugh as he settled back against Dean’s side. He held the dog up and twisted him in the faint light. “What should we call him?”

Dean rubbed his hand across his jaw and gave a thoughtful hum. “What about Spot?”

“Spot?! Use your imagination, man. This dog needs a proper name, like… Reginald.”

Martin, who was only half-heartedly listening to their conversation while Richard argued over who got to be the top hat, suddenly choked unceremoniously on his rum and coke. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and gave the boys an incredulous stare.

“Reginald the dog, are you serious?”

“What’s wrong with Reginald?” Aidan shrugged. Martin opened his mouth to no doubt say something cutting and sarcastic, but was interrupted by Ken who insisted they at least get on with this game sometime in the next fucking century, thank you very much.

The game had started off simply enough. Granted, it was more alcohol sodden and there was much more swearing than the games Dean would play with his family round his grandma’s house. But clothes had remained on bodies as the starting two teams rolled their starting go; it seemed that nobody really wanted to be the first to lose their apparels. At least until Adam and Graham landed on Whitechapel Road. Adam grabbed onto Graham’s bicep and shook him excitedly, as though the older man couldn’t see what was going on.

“Should we buy it?” Adam asked.

“For sixty quid? What’s that, two pairs of shoes and socks? I say we do it,” Graham replied with a grin. They pulled off all their footwear, then passed the lot over to a slightly disgusted Ian in exchange for the little plastic house (Ian made a big show of holding everything at arms-length before dumping it in an unceremonious pile at his feet).

Then it was Dean and Aidan’s turn. It looked like Dean was the nominated dice roller, as the younger couldn’t be bothered to move. They rolled an eight and landed on Euston Road. Once Dean was settled back into his seat, Aidan leaned forward to press their forehead together, clearly indicating that they were deep in business conference.

“What do you think? £100, I’m sure we could scrape that together.”

“Nah, I’ve got an idea,” Aidan said in his best corporate voice as he tapped a finger against his lips. He stared at the board in deep thought for a few moments, then nodded. “Alright, I’ve got it. We’re going to wait to buy up Park Lane and Mayfair.”

“Park… but they’re the most expensive items on the board! Christ, Aid, we’ll be naked in ten minutes flat.”

“No, hear me out.” Aidan’s voice had now dropped to a low mutter, and he cast a suspicious eye over the rest of the cast (who were all drinking and laughing and not paying them any attention in the slightest). “Everyone knows that having the entire set of a colour doubles the money when someone lands on them. We’ll rake it all back in no time.”

Dean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to comprehend the situation. “I am not getting butt-naked just so we can win a stupid board game. No way.”

“Deano, you don’t understand – we won’t just be winning the game, we’ll be robbing everyone else of their clothes while we’re sitting pretty! It’ll be great, just trust me.” And with that he gave Dean a quick, reassuring tap on the chest with his knuckles and sat up to inform the rest of the group that they weren’t going to buy up Euston Road.

The game continued, and Dean began to get more and more apprehensive as more properties were bought up. It seemed that Graham and Adam had caused a domino effect on the rest of the cast; once the first garments were removed, everyone else appeared to lose whatever inhibitions they had, and clothes were shed quicker than college kids in a drunken one night stand. It was obvious that the entire group had a collective vicious competitive streak. Still, eventually Dean and Aidan had moved Reginald the dog all the way over to Park Lane without landing in any serious trouble. Aidan sat up and stretched, then flashed Ian a lazy grin.

“We’d like to buy up Park Lane, if that’s ok with you.”

Ian let out a good natured chuckle at their youngest cast member. “That’s perfectly fine with me, Mr Turner. So long as you can afford it.”

Dean barely had chance to think, when suddenly Aidan was stripping off shoes, socks, leather jacket and t-shirt. He smacked Dean in the arm with his shoe and insisted that he do the same. The amount of cheering they received when they were finished made him all too aware of his naked chest, and he crossed his arms with a bashful smile as Aidan threw all their clothes in Ian’s direction. At least now they were on the board, Dean thought to himself, as he rubbed at his bare arms and tried to ignore the goose-pimples rippling across his skin.

In all honesty, it was a pretty ingenious plan on the surface. It was one of those sorts of things that big business investors were always going on about: _“you’ve got to spend big to earn big”_ or something like that. But of course, like all the best laid plans, something always comes along to fuck it up. In this case, that thing was James Nesbitt.

James and Jed’s iron wasn’t far behind Reginald the dog, to the point where Dean actually started praying to God that they didn’t land on Mayfair just before James rolled the dice. So, naturally, they rolled a ten and landed directly on that very spot. James looked up at them with such an evil grin that Dean was slightly worried about how seriously he planned on taking this game.

“Well, would you look at that? You didn’t want Mayfair, did you, boys?”

Aidan spluttered in indignation. “You cheating bastard, you did that on purpose!”

“Luck of the draw, I’m afraid,” James replied with a laugh, as Jed chuckled into his beer. Then James leant in and rested his elbows on his knees, that mischievous smile still on his lips. “Actually, I’ll make you a deal. You can buy it off us. Just pay Ian the £400 – that’s, what… both pairs of jeans?”

There was a catch. There had to be a catch. Aidan might be all set to dive in and yank off his jeans, but Dean was not falling for whatever trick James Nesbitt had up his proverbial sleeve. Still, despite the suspicious glare he threw towards the two men, he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down (much to the laughter from the others and a particularly loud wolf whistle from Graham). Aidan threw them at Ian’s feet and held out his hand for the card. Of course, James sat back and placed his arms behind his head, like some sort of Monopoly mafia boss. He laughed again.

“So that paid the bank. What are you going to pay us?”

“What do you _mean_ ‘what’-?”

“Someone’s pants will cover it,” James interrupted loudly. He patted Jed on the knee. “What do you think, pal?”

“I’d say that’s a reasonable rate,” Jed replied, with a wicked smile that was completely Nori. Dean had to give them credit; they might be a couple of ruthless bastards, but sure knew how to play the game. Aidan was still trying to keep up some form of argument, but was failing miserably, and it was obvious that the rest of the cast were getting restless (at least, if Adam’s yell of “oh for God’s sake, just get them off!” was anything to go by). James just gave him an amused shrug.

“If you don’t want Mayfair, you don’t _have_ to have it. But I don’t really know what you’re making a big fuss over. Unless, of course, you’ve got something to hide.” He winked salaciously, and Dean could have sworn that he saw a pink flush crawling up Aidan’s neck. It was Jed that tipped him over the edge.

“What makes you think we want your underwear anyway? Personally, I’d rather Dean strip off for us.” He was joking; the smile he offered Dean was proof that he was only winding them up. But it was enough for Aidan to stand up and start pulling off his boxer-briefs, with just enough decorum and sobriety not to overbalance and land on top of the Monopoly board. Nobody was really expecting him to actually do it, and they all let out various noises of surprise; Ken spat out his drink half way across the room and Adam let out such a high pitched squeal that any dogs within a 5 mile radius could have heard it.

Even Dean didn’t think he’d give in to their teasing. He also couldn’t help but notice that from this position he got quite an excellent view of Aidan’s arse. It was as if his irrational thoughts were running two seconds faster than the reasonable section of his brain, because once Dean realised that yes, he was actually checking out Aidan Turner’s arse, he dropped his eyes to the floor and turned what he could only imagine was a fetching shade of pink. It was strange; although Aidan had been not-so-subtly flirting with him all the way through the strip poker match, he never once mentioned it when they were sober. Maybe he was just an overly flirtatious drunk, and maybe Dean should stop being an idiot and just let it go. Still, at least Aidan had a shred of modesty at the moment, as he covered himself with one hand and chucked his underwear across the room towards an open-mouthed James.

He sat down and glared at the board, while Dean’s initial reaction was to grab a cushion from the sofa and place it over his friend’s naked midsection. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he gave this cushion a quick pat. A smirk pulled at the corners of Aidan’s lips at this, and he let out a faint giggle. The giggle snowballed into full blown laughter, and he threw his head back against the sofa with one of his brilliant smiles as his chest shook in hilarity. It didn’t take long for that to set Dean off, and soon Aidan and Dean were both collapsed against each other in hysterics, much to the bemusement of the rest of the group.

They continued with the game. Although more properties were bought, and clothes were shed and exchanged, it was unsurprising that everyone seemed to conveniently miss their two spots, given their current unlucky streak. Dean briefly wondered whether this was what living on the breadline was like – the two of them had only £500 to their name in the form of his pants, plus whatever notes they could scrape from passing ‘go’. Aidan seemed to be getting more and more miserable as his plan continued not to work, and nakedness soon lost its appeal. He was slumped against Dean’s side with an absent expression on his face, beer bottle clutched in one hand, the other holding the cushion in place. At least until Stephen, William and Mark landed on Park Lane. It was as if some sort of alarm had gone off in his head, because Aidan sat up so quickly that he made Dean jump and he nearly sent the cushion toppling to the floor.

“Ah!” he yelped, pointing at the board. “Park Lane! That’s ours! Plus it’s double the rent, so you owe us £350.”

The three men grumbled and complained the entire time, but eventually Dean and Aidan were in the possession of Stephen’s jeans, two pairs of shoes, a pair of socks, and Martin Freeman’s shirt. It was like Christmas come early. Aidan immediately yanked on Stephen’s trousers (despite them being several sizes too big for his slim frame) and he perked up considerably. He got practically giddy with delight when James and Jed landed on Mayfair a couple of turns later. He let out a triumphant cry and jumped to his feet, hitching Stephen’s jeans up around his waist so that he didn’t unintentionally flash the entire group.

“Give me back my pants, you fuckers!”

The game had to go to a temporary intermission as everyone burst into hysterical laughter. Once James caught his breath again, he threw the underwear back across the room to one very ecstatic Irishman, who made no haste in replacing the baggy jeans with his own boxers. It’s as if the fates had turned on them, because soon they were collecting rent from everyone, and the extra money meant they could buy up more properties. One time Dean rolled the dice and they landed on the Free Parking space, meaning they got an extra £300 (Aidan threw his arms around Dean’s neck in a hug that was so enthusiastic it nearly caused them both to tumble off the sofa). All this extra affluence definitely improved Aidan’s mood – although, that might have also been down to the amount of alcohol he was not too slowly getting through.

An hour and 23 minutes later, and the majority of the cast were nearly naked, with their clothes forming a rather large pile by Dean’s feet. Aidan had decided by this point to sprawl across the entire sofa, with his head in Dean’s lap and whatever he was currently drinking clutched tight to his chest. Dean was in the middle of performing a miniature experiment; it seemed that if he ran his hands through Aidan’s curls, the younger man made little humming noises. It was quite sweet. Although it was causing Ian to throw them some pretty amused looked. In all honestly, it probably did look a little weird: two grown men in nothing but their underpants, one stroking the other’s hair as he lies in a drunken state across his legs. Not exactly common practice. Martin and Richard landed on Marylebone Station (another one of theirs), and both groaned loudly, which only caused Aidan to burst into a fit of high pitched giggles.

“That’s another fifty quid to us, please,” he said with a brattish grin. He poked Dean in the thigh. “See, I told you we’d win. Did I do good or did I do good?”

“You did brilliantly,” Dean smiled back as he wound the dark curls around his fingers. This was obviously the right thing to say, because Aidan responded by placing several tiny kisses against his knee. Martin tutted as he threw their last remaining clothes in their direction.

“You guys are sickening. It’s not enough that you robbed us all of our clothes and dignity, you have to fucking boast about it as well.” He wasn’t complaining for long, however, because Richard chose this time to run his fingers up Martin’s bare back, causing him to shudder involuntarily. Richard threw a smirk in Dean’s direction which clearly said ‘you’re welcome’.

It was at that point that the game dissolved, and Dean and Aidan were crowned the winners, because Graham fell asleep and lost grip of his beer bottle, sending it crashing to the floor and spilling all over the Monopoly board. While everyone cried out in frustration and grabbed their clothes from where they were spread across the room, Aidan rolled over in Dean’s lap to look up at him. He ran a finger across his chest and hummed appreciatively.

“You know, this is the second time I’ve seen you naked. I’m starting to think this is becoming a habit.” He smirked and his dark eyes flickered up to meet Dean’s. “Better get thinking of another game, hm?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is based loosely on a game I played with a large group, where me and my friend completely cleaned up the board by using this strategy (obviously there was no nakedness involved). This is how I worked out the prices for each item of clothing:
> 
> £5 - per shoe  
> £10 - per sock  
> £20 - jumpers/coats/jackets  
> £50 - shirts/t-shirts  
> £100 - trousers  
> £500 - underwear
> 
> Plus they get £200 in notes every time they pass go. I dunno, that was the idea. Obviously it's a London board because that's all I've ever played with. Hope that's cleared up some of the technicalities about this!


End file.
